


life in pink

by rmaowl



Series: january [31]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Adorable, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders is a Sweetheart, Baker Morality | Patton Sanders, Bedrooms, Beds, Blankets, Boys In Love, Boys Kissing, Caring Logic | Logan Sanders, Chocolate, Cleaning, Couch Cuddles, Couches, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders In Love, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders is Extra, Crying, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dessert & Sweets, Domestic Fluff, Dresses, Fluff, Gentle Kissing, Gentleness, Gift Exchange, Gift Giving, Headspace, Holidays, House Cleaning, Kissing, Letters, Love, M/M, Men Crying, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Morality | Patton Sanders Tries, Morning Cuddles, Nicknames, Pet Names, Polyamory, Presents, Protective Morality | Patton Sanders, Sharing a Bed, Sleepiness, Sleepy Cuddles, Smitten Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Sweet, Tears, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Valentine’s Day, there are probably more tags i don’t know about which would suit this fic but i’m tired
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-01
Updated: 2019-02-01
Packaged: 2019-10-20 03:48:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17614868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rmaowl/pseuds/rmaowl
Summary: The quadruple awakens to an unhealthy amount of the color pink covering their room.





	life in pink

"So," Roman begins, elongating the word as he approaches Logan and Patton. "Valentine's Day is coming up."

"Indeed it is," Logan confirms with a sigh.

"Yeah!" Patton chirps excitedly. "What're we doing for Virgil?"

"Somehow we need to persuade Thomas to part with a million dollars!" Roman proclaims, striking a dramatic pose. Logan stares.

"You're Creativity," he points out. "You can conjure up whatever you like without any cost. A million dollars is not a reasonable budget for gift-giving."

"It is when the person you're giving the gift to deserves the whole entire world!" Patton argues, eyes swiftly growing watery. He sniffles.

"It's not a budget we can afford," Logan insists, willing the words to sink in. Roman begins rubbing Patton's back in comforting circles.

"Let it out," Roman murmurs, making soft shushing sounds. "I know. We've made grave mistakes in our past, but this will make up for it."

"Some of it, maybe!" Patton wails. "I can't believe we—"

"Enough," Logan snaps. "We've all wronged Virgil greatly and I comprehend that, but we're trying." He waits a moment, then relents. "I'm sure that we're going to give him an excellent Valentine's Day gift"—Patton squeaks—"but stressing extensively over it is not helping anyone."

"You're right," Roman says, nodding. Logan is dumbfounded.

"That's it? No more dramatics?" Some kind of confused numbness is consuming him, welling up and puddling in his chest. It sits there, a frigid weight.

Ugh. Emotions.

"Yeah," Roman says simply. He plops himself down on the sectional.

"Are you... okay?" Logan's brow furrows.

"Yeah," Roman repeats. There's no extra emphasis. The single word remains toneless. "It's whatever."

Logan fights the urge to scream. "Whatever," he parrots, muttering. "Okay!" He speaks again, louder this time, clapping his hands together to gather everyone's attention. "Gift-giving."

The corners of Patton's lips twitch, curving up into a smile. "Gift-giving... ooh, can we get him a puppy?"

Just like that, they're thrown back into the chaos.

Logan has a long day ahead of him.

* * *

T'was the night before Valentine's, when all through the house... not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.

Wait. Wrong holiday.

The point still stands, though. Virgil's fast asleep, his body a soft lump beneath his weighted blanket. Logan and Patton are curled up on either side of him, their legs entangled. Roman is the only one who is truly awake, sitting at the edge of their bed, but that won't last.

The one thing left for him to prepare is the decorations.

He eases his weight off the bed and heads to the kitchen, making sure he doesn't disturb any of the sleeping Sides.

Taking a leaf from _Brave_ 's book, he grants a plain broom the ability to sweep on its own and marvels at it. Any dust and additional clutter on the kitchen floor is promptly cleaned away. With a flourish, a rose-colored tablecloth with lacy edges is draped over their dining table. He rescues the plate of Valentine's-themed blondie bars Patton made previously from the countertop, placing it in the center of the table instead. He adjusts the lighting, turning the blinding white into soft flickers of salmon. Construction paper soars towards the walls, plastering them with heart cutouts. Then, because it's not extra enough, a shower of heart-shaped pink glitter swirls down from the sky. It flutters, resting on each and every surface.

Finally, Roman is satisfied.

He walks back to bed.

* * *

The quadruple awakens to an unhealthy amount of the color pink covering their room. Roman claps his hands together with excitement, grinning. He's clearly in the Valentine's spirit, if there is such a thing. Patton lets out a loud _aww_ and compliments Roman's work. Logan admits that _some of it_ is objectively aesthetically pleasing, despite the fact that it looks like Cupid threw up all over the place (he's smiling at their antics, so what does he know). Virgil is unsettled by the sudden changes at first, but as soon as he adjusts, he silently takes in each detail with awe.

They giggle and kiss each other clumsily, tangled in their respective blankets. They kind of don't want to leave the warmth of their bed, but they do. Eventually.

The kitchen is another sight, dripping with pale red. It's corny, cheesy, over-the-top.

Naturally, they fall in love with it at first sight. Patton squeaks at seeing his treats displayed so cutely, obsessing over the glitter. Logan complains quietly about how tedious it'll be to clean up, but he's _still smiling._ Virgil's eyes are wide and sparkly. He's speechless. Roman is pleased that his work is getting the recognition and appreciation it deserves.

The whole day is lazy, unplanned, spontaneous. They compete to see who can come up with the best pet names (angel, bunny, cupcake, darling, the list could go on) and they kiss chocolate off each other's lips. They lounge on the couch, piled cozily. Logan presses Virgil's head to his chest, murmuring softly to him. Patton kisses Virgil's pink cheek. Roman whines for attention, so Logan leans down to press a kiss to his lips, disturbing Virgil's sleepy state.

"How dare you," he mumbles, but he stays so languid and peaceful, stretched out across their bodies. His fingers twitch. His toes curl. He huffs out a small sigh of pure contentment.

"Hey," Roman murmurs at a slightly louder volume than Virgil just executed. "I'm needy and impatient, can we _please_ get to the exchanging of the gifts?"

"Blunt," Logan says, snorting unsophisticatedly. He doesn't even appear ashamed. That's so _good._ Patton fights the urge to praise the heck out of him, knowing it'll make him freak out and overthink things. He settles for rapidly flapping his hands about. Virgil yawns, his tired haze slipping through his fingers due to the slight spike in his anxiety levels. He's at a vague two on his one to ten scale, one being fairly calm and ten being disastrously panicked. It's not a big deal, it's just... this is his first Valentine's Day with them like _this,_ so close, so intimate. It's scary. He wants what he does to be good enough.

While Virgil is not gifted a puppy, he's gifted a hoodie patterned with them, surely Patton's idea. There's another hoodie with a monochrome galaxy splattered all over, which might have been Logan. There's an eyeshadow kit that reaches only slightly out of his comfort zone, cautiously picked and given to him by Roman, There are folded notes inside a painted wooden box, filling it to the brim. It can hardly close.

Each of the notes say something different, but they all boil down to the same thing: reminders. They're reminders of the other three's love for him, they're reminders to care for his body despite its lack of corporeality, they're reminders to do silly things like paint his nails and feel unapologetic about it.

He'll admit to crying. He cries _a lot,_ actually.

Roman, despite being the one who initiated the gift-giving ceremony in the first place, insisted that he go _after_ Virgil. He was thrumming with a mixture of anxiety and excitement then. Now that it's his turn and Virgil's gifts are out of the way, the anxiety has dissipated. He bounces in place, sitting cross-legged on the floor.

Patton pushes a box towards him, squealing. As Roman opens it, his fingers brush against a satiny red fabric akin to his sash. He pulls it out of the box with care.

It's an _utterly extravagant_ gown, accented in shimmery gold.

"It's perfect!" He shouts, eyes gleaming. He leaps to his feet, twirling it around. The skirt floats upwards, flowing, refined. "Are you sure I'd look good in this?"

"You fishing for compliments or genuinely concerned?" Virgil asks, eyebrows knit together. His head is tipped to one side.

"Fishing for compliments," Roman assures with a wink. He feels a soft warmth blooming in his chest at the fact that Virgil _thought to ask._ He’s considerate, so _aware_ of their individual insecurities; it’s the one thing he’s remotely good at, in his own (incorrect) opinion, being the embodiment of anxiety (which isn’t all that he is, but sometimes Virgil regresses to that mindset when things get _bad,_ like... “ducking out” bad).

"Terrible," Virgil deadpans sarcastically, snapping Roman back into reality.

" _No!_ " Patton whines. "Ro, you'll look _lovely,_ I promise!"

"Excuse me for my repetitive word choice, but I believe you'll look _very_ aesthetically pleasing," Logan adds. The emphasis on “very” is important; it’s a subtly flirtatious detail.

"Why, thank you!” Roman exclaims, performing an exaggerated bow. He folds the dress gently and sets it back into the cardboard box.

He receives a golden crown, floral, with roses and pearls and leaves. He feels an urge to nestle it in his curly, fluffy hair _immediately._ There’s also various makeup products and face masks, numerous lotions and oils. He’s gonna be _glowing._ There’s also a neon sign spelling out _dream,_ the perfect decor for his room.

“How’d you get all this?” Roman asks.

“You’re not the only one who can create things,” Logan reasons, “but it _is_ a tad more difficult.”

Roman beams. “I would slay so many dragons for you guys.”

Patton squirms where he’s sitting, holding back an outburst. He manages it for two more seconds before exclaiming, “can Logan go next? I really want him to see what I made!”

“Yes, I can go next,” Logan acquiesces, adjusting his glasses. His lips twitch.

He gets a solar system necklace from Roman, the planets thick and weighted and perfect for his fingers to fiddle with. They’re sturdy things he can’t break. Patton, silly as it seems, gifts him a personalized Rubik’s Cube. Its colors are soft, gentle on the eyes, covered in hearts and sparkles and _unicorns._ Virgil gives him a _bismuth crystal,_ shiny and rainbow. He’s enthralled by its colors and shape, fascinated. Virgil watches with fondness in his eyes, pleasantly surprised by his reaction.

There might be a bit of Crofter’s in there as well.

“Last but not least,” Roman starts up dramatically, “Patton!” There’s a package clutched in Roman’s hands, which he extends towards Patton. He dives in, quivering with excitement that is barely contained.

There are fuzzy animal onesies. There are _a lot_ of fuzzy animal onesies. There are small sheets of stickers and tiny stuffed animals and sparkly bath bombs. There are a lot of disjointed things, trinkets that he’ll have to find a place for. There are three drawings; one is exaggerated and bright; one is straight and calculated; one is messy and soft. He gets a sudden urge to pin them up... somewhere, perhaps the fridge.

There are notes hidden around the headspace, somehow found exactly when they’re needed. There are movie nights, snuggled together while a Disney movie plays, crying together at the sad parts (catharsis). There are reminders set on phones, saying _take a shower, take a break, take a walk, take a breath._ There are slumber parties, in which nails are painted and face masks are utilized. There are days where their bones ache and they only feel _tired_ but they push through it anyway. There are days where they fall apart a little and put each other back together.

There are days.

* * *

Even after Valentine's Day is over, Virgil finds traces of its softness.

He reads a note a day, oftentimes. Sometimes he doesn't need a note, but sometimes he feels as if he needs millions, suffocated by the weight of _existing._ Patton reminds him that he's loved, an unnecessary amount of exclamation points and hearts tacked on the end. Roman reminds him that he's valued, alongside various pet names. Logan reminds him that bad days are okay to have, straightforward. Each letter, carefully handwritten, manages to effectuate a warm feeling in his bleak chest.

He continues to find heart-shaped specks of glitter in his tousled hair.

He learns, somewhat, that you don’t need a holiday as a cover-up for your kindness. Screw that. Send texts to the ones you love, sharing little things that made you think of them. Cuddle with them just because you feel like it. Compliment them relentlessly. Ask if you can spend extra time with them today. Do their makeup; do _your_ makeup.

He breathes, _four, seven, eight,_ and he feels okay.

He’s okay.

**Author's Note:**

> three noun prompt: holiday, broom, mouse  
> dialogue prompt: “somehow we need to persuade him to part with a million dollars.”


End file.
